Dabbles in Drabbles
by Jedi Trace
Summary: EU-centric response to a 20-week drabble challenge. Luke, Mara, Cade, Leia, Anakin, Vader, Barriss, Morrigan, various. LEGACY comics era heavy.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Dabbles in Drabbles

**Timeframe**: Various  
**Characters**: Various (LEGACY comics era heavy)  
**Genre**: Drabbles, various  
**Summary**: Written for a Drabble Challenge in 2008 in which a set of five words was assigned each week for twenty weeks. The assigned words are in bold type before each drabble.

**A/N**: Most of these are canon-compliant, but some are AU, some are serious, some are sad, some are humor and some are just plain ridiculous. I hope you enjoy the variety! :)

Week 1: Morrigan Corde  
Week 2: Luke/Mara  
Week 3: Legacy comics  
Week 4: Anakin/Vader  
Week 5: Luke/Barriss, AU  
Week 6: Luke/Mara  
Week 7: Cade Skywalker  
Week 8: Girl Talk  
Week 9: Karrde/Shada  
Week 10: Leia/Mara  
Week 11: Luke/Leia/Barriss, AU  
Week 12: Jedi vs. Sith, AU, humor  
Week 13: Kol/Morrigan/Cade  
Week 14: Dark Mara  
Week 15: Karrde/Shada  
Week 16: Mara Jade  
Week 17: Skywalker boys  
Week 18: Nyna Calixte  
Week 19: Skywalker girls  
Week 20: Legacies

* * *

**Week 1: **_**Morrigan Corde**_ (LEGACY comics era)

**Smooth**

She'd never held a baby before. The demanding life of an Imperial operative left little room for such domestic chores. Cradling her son awkwardly, she wondered how something so small could fill a room so completely.

"What will we name him?" Kol asked.

She looked down, brushing her fingertip over a soft tuft of blond hair. "How about _Cade?_"

His skin was smooth and his eyes were green. Should she feel sad or guilty that he would never know that his eyes matched hers?

She had already planned her career. And she had not planned for him.

**Rough**

Everything people said about relationships was true. They were inconvenient and intoxicating. They gave you refuge and held you hostage. You could smother and drown in such carefree abandon. She wanted no part of it.

Until Kol Skywalker.

They'd met on a short-term project and she knew better than to make the infraction of commitment. But now, two years had passed and she no longer recognized her life.

So why did she stay here, tucked under his arm with her forehead pressed to his rough jaw?

She was falling and would soon crash if she did not escape.

**Dry**

His voice was dry - harsh and brittle, sounding old beyond his years, as he implored her not to leave.

She turned away. They had been a mistake.

His eyes were dry. Stoic and solid, he offered her a new life on Ossus, but she did not want that life. Her path was hers to forge and she would not be wed to the Jedi Order.

Her mouth was dry when she paused in front of Cade's room and touched the door, silently begging his forgiveness.

Of all the mistakes she'd made, her son was not one of them.

**Wrinkled**

The flimsi was wrinkled and worn around the edges, yet the small imprint of a baby's hand had not faded.

She had been careful to secure hazardous substances in their quarters and yet Cade had found the container of ink on the very day that he'd learned to crawl.

Looking at the tiny outline now, she compared it to the life-size holo standing before her. The man she'd been recalled from retirement to assassinate.

She stepped close. He had her eyes and hair, but Kol's powerful frame.

Tucking the flimsi away, she gathered her weapons.

**Weathered**

In the semi-darkness of stale, drunken air, Morrigan fingered the center of the thin strap around her neck: a miniature holo-plate which projected the single image of her and Kol and Cade.

A lifetime ago, her steady fingers had caressed the smooth, innocent face of her son. Before she'd walked away. Before Kol had been killed.

She had come full circle.

Twenty years older now, her hands were weathered and stained with the blood of the man she'd killed in order to protect Cade.

She wondered if they would hold steady when she touched him again.


	2. Week 2

**Week 2: **_**Luke/Mara**_

**Jedi **

He was born to be a Jedi. I'd say it was genetic, but his father struggled with the Code, as does our son. As did I, for years. Luke may deliberate over the roles of the Order within the current political climate, but he has never questioned the fundamental duty of a Jedi to serve the galaxy. The Force has not always been kind to him, but he will serve no other master. Only breathing comes more naturally.

He told me once that Yoda had not wanted to train him. I wonder, then, where any of us would have been?

**Sith **

He worries about the Dark Side. Not that he's in danger of turning or falling - Luke Skywalker simply doesn't possess the inherent selfishness and greed necessary to become a proper Sith - but that the boundaries between Light and Dark have been breached and that he will lead us astray.

I assure him that doubt and uncertainty are nothing new or dangerous, when handled with discretion. The entire Order was wiped out, and not under his leadership. The lines between right and wrong have blurred and he wonders when that happened.

I wonder if the lines were ever clear.

**Soldier **

He wanted to be a soldier once. I've seen the holos of him in his days as a General and, though I did not know him then, I know him well enough now to understand why he became disenchanted and resigned his commission.

He feels the burn of every blaster shot and the weight of every pointless death. He agonizes over every decision that will end innocent lives or deprive those needing redemption of their final chance to make the right choice. Fighting now only when compelled by need, he is haunted by every life that ends at his hand.

**Civilian**

He couldn't be a civilian. I don't think he would even know _how_ to sit back and watch the holonet with apathy or disinterest.

On the various occasions when we've taken a vacation or tried to remain inconspicuous among the anonymous faces of crowded walkways, Luke simply does not blend in - unless he's in a disguise. But, even then, he'll find a way to get tangled up in situations that would go unnoticed by almost anyone else.

I used to tease him about his inadvertent addiction to helping others. Now, I think the galaxy could use more men like him.

**Politician**

He should never have been put in the position to be a politician. There is no one more appropriate or suited to lead the new Jedi Order, but Luke should not have to answer to Heads of State on matters of the Force.

The Force is alive. Laws are imitations of life. Necessary aspirations, yes, but not ends unto themselves. We abide by the laws. We uphold them and fight to maintain them, but we do not serve them.

He aches within the confines of political agendas because he cannot infuse the Living Force into dead husks of garnered authority.


	3. Week 3

**Week 3: **_**Falling**_ (LEGACY comics era)

**Mother**

In the dead of night, she runs to the shuttle with her fellow younglings. The firefight is deafening and blinding, but she controls her terror, reciting the mantra: There is no fear…there is no fear…

Her mother commands her to flee and she does, sprinting across the Temple grounds as fast as her small legs can go.

Master Skywalker and Master Sazen stand between the shuttle and the Sith, protecting their escape. Halfway up the ramp, she stumbles and falls. Her mother's death explodes in her brain and she does not know who grabs her arms and pulls her aboard.

**Father**

The Temple is falling and Master Sazen is dying and Cade Skywalker is screaming. We weep but Cade pushes past us, standing over his Master's body. Power erupts from him, like nothing we have ever seen before. Light comes from everywhere and nowhere and we stare in shock as death is consumed and denied.

The light is not yet faded when Master Skywalker's presence is ripped from the Force and Cade is screaming again, pounding his fists against the viewport until they are bloodied and bruised.

The shuttle takes off and he collapses. We wonder if he is dead, too.

**Sister**

How had it happened? News of the massacre at Ossus had spread like ignited blaster fuel over the holonet and, alone in her room at the Imperial Mission, Astraal Vao clutches her arms over her stomach, rocking in silence. She cannot feel her twin brother. Had he fallen? Would the Sith have slaughtered the padawans?

Of course they would.

She'd never wished to be a Jedi, but tonight she wishes she could harness the Force better. She wishes she'd learned more. Rocking faster, her lekku tense and twitch in private pain.

_Hear me, Shado,_ she calls silently. _Please answer me._

**Brother**

Sitting on the medical bay bunk, Wolf Sazen stares straight ahead, the pain of his severed arm ignored as nightmares begin before he even sleeps.

The Jedi Temple is fallen, brutally violated by the Sith.

Cade is gone. Run away into the night. He has withdrawn himself completely from the Force – a damnable genetic ability passed down, according to legend, from Ben Skywalker himself - and Wolf must now relinquish his padawan to whatever his destiny holds.

Kol is dead. He had been his Master. His brother. His comrade in arms.

Wolf closes his eyes. He should have died instead.

**Friend**

Nei Rin makes her way slowly through the carnage at the Temple, sickened by the sight of fallen Jeedai, Sith and Shapers. Abandoned. Unhonored.

She stops on the landing pad, dropping to her knees beside the body of Kol Skywalker. Resting her tattooed fingers on his forehead in disbelief, she mourns the death of the man who had championed the cause of the Yuuzhan Vong. The man she had called _friend_.

With her warriors, she places him upon a proper Jeedai pyre and ignites the flames that carry him back to his Force.

Who will the Goddess shine upon now?


	4. Week 4

**Week 4: **_**Anakin/Vader**_

**Shuttle**

His journey started on a slave transport shuttle. Rocking and lurching in the overcrowded interior, he rested his head on his mother's lap, inhaling the familiar scent of the rough fabric of her skirt. She gave him her rations, although he tried to refuse them, protesting that he wasn't hungry. The stale food tasted like the sick on the floor smelled, but he ate dutifully for her.

He did not ask questions when they arrived on the bright, blistering sands of their new home. Clutching her with a sweaty palm, he knew he'd be safe as long as they were together.

**Fighter**

As a child, he dreamed of becoming a pilot and soaring among the stars. When the days were long and his master cruel, he held on to that hope with the tenacity of a kreetle's claw.

When he finally became the master of his own ship, he would fly with his eyes closed, communing with the Force and the stars racing past the canopy. In the invigorating solitude of a starfigher, he was alone. And he was free.

Even podracing could not compare with the exhilaration of solo flight. The only thing he missed was the wind in his hair.

**Freighter **

How could a ship be infuriating? It simply was not logical that the very sight of a junked-out Corellian freighter could cause his blood to burn in his veins.

His secret had been discovered by the Emperor and time was running out to claim what was rightfully his. What kept escaping on that blasted vessel.

The Captain and the Princess and the Wookie would pay for this. Once he had the Boy, he would make sure that that damned excuse for a ship never flew again. He'd slag it himself and would make the Captain watch.

Oh yes, he looked forward to that.

**Capital Ship**

He despised the Imperial Palace. The facades of Court interested him as much as the crawling roverine he flattened beneath his boot.

He hated the Death Star. As far as he was concerned, time spent on that monstrosity was wasted and futile.

He found no solace at Bast Castle. The acid rains and brilliant roses came and went with or without him.

Only on the _Executor_ did he find some measure of contentment. The engines purred beneath his feet as he stood at the helm, surrounded by his efficient and disciplined crew. Stars glittered beyond the bow, beckoning him to quiet, dark solace.

**Space station**

His journey ended on a space station. Not among the stars, as he'd hoped, but in the confines of an artificial, floating tomb. For twenty years, he had taunted death, daring it to end his miserable existance, yet it would grant him no reprieve.

But now, powerless and broken on a shuttle ramp - much like the one he'd descended so long ago on Tatooine - he staked his claim of victory over immortality.

Death had been denied him so long that he faced it at last, not with fear or anger, but with relief.

He would weep only for the boy.


	5. Week 5

**Week 5: **_**The Healer**_(AU)

**Burn**

Out of the stars, a lone X-wing spiraled into the atmosphere. Its attackers banked away, abandoning the snub fighter to its unfortunate fate.

Luke barely glanced back before attempting to pull up, but the inertial compensator was shot and he was thrown against the seat with bone-crunching force.

Clenching his teeth until he tasted blood, he reached for the comm to transmit a distress signal. The transponder blew up in his face.

Fighting pain and disorientation, he activated the suppression hose to extinguish the fire. The last thing he remembered was hitting the trees and Artoo squealing in the background.

**Rash**

Words and voices swam together, garbled, as if under water.

"Get him out. Careful!"

Luke felt himself being lifted from the cockpit and maneuvered clumsily along the hull to the ground. His flight suit was smoking.

"Pull it off! He's burning."

Small humanoid beings, he could see them now, tugged and pulled on his jumpsuit until it peeled away, revealing his red, blistered skin beneath.

"The Healer," the closest one murmured. "He'll need the Healer."

Luke tried to protest. He had a medical kit in his ship and if he could just manage a healing trance…

"We must carry him."

**Surgery**

He felt her before he saw her – a warm, strong presence gliding through the door. Peering through blistered and swollen eyelids, he followed her graceful movements around the primitive, but clean, chamber.

Luke struggled to sit up. If they had a comm station…

"Lay still, young man," she chastised him gently. "You have a broken leg, a fractured arm and too many burns, bruises and lacerations to count."

As far as he could tell, there were no surgical instruments present, nor any other paraphernalia of modern medicine. Surely, this woman did not mean to treat him with her bare hands?

**Hurt**

"My hands are all that will be necessary."

Luke blinked. He'd not spoken aloud.

"You have your father's eyes," she said quietly, settling beside him on the cot. She smiled and lines crinkled just above the crescent of diamond-shaped tattoos on her cheeks.

"My father?"

"We will speak of it later. For now, I want you to concentrate. Use the Force as best you can, but I do not want you in a healing trance yet. I need your cooperation." Positioning her weathered hands on his leg, she closed her eyes. "I am sorry, but this may hurt a little."

**Heal**

It did hurt, but not as much as he would have expected. Afterward, she eased him into a healing trance and, when he woke up, he was completely healed.

Swallowing, he found his voice. "You're a Jedi."

She answered only with a nod.

"Your talent is amazing. What's your name?"

"I was once called Barriss."

"Why haven't you joined us?"

"I did not survive the Purges by practicing the Jedi arts openly."

"But the Purges are over."

When she faced him, it was with haunted blue eyes that sent shivers of horror down his spine.

"Is that what you think?"


	6. Week 6

**Week 6: **_**Luke/Mara**_

**Shirt**

The foreign ship lifted easily upward and Luke reached for Mara's hand as they blasted off Nirauan and safely into hyperspace. She laced her fingers into his, trembling. He glanced over in concern, but her smile and Force presence assured him that she was not distressed. She was simply freezing.

And so was he.

Their supply packs were long gone, floating somewhere in that blasted lake most likely, and they were both shivering in icy-soaked clothes. Rummaging through the cabin, he found a single two-piece outfit stashed in a storage bin over the pilot's chair.

He offered her the shirt.

**Pants**

Changing awkwardly in the cramped quarters, Luke turned away to grant her some privacy. Minutes later, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see her pull her hair from beneath the collar and run her fingers through the wet locks, splaying them over her shoulders.

Wearing only the borrowed pair of pants, he turned as she approached him slowly. Her bare legs brushed against his and she rested her palm on his chest, glancing up with an expression that sparked a shower of wondering questions in his gut.

When her lips touched his, he had no more questions.

**Dress**

Two days later, they arrived at a remote Alliance outpost. It was not large or exceptionally well-equipped, but their room was warm and the sheets were soft. A single, dim lamp glowed softly beside the bed and Luke turned over to watch his new fiancé.

In the forest, she'd preferred to sleep in a semi-reclined position, perpetually ready to spring to her feet should danger arise. Tonight, she slept on her side, pressed close with one leg flung over his.

The morning light was an unwelcome intruder, dragging him reluctantly into the new day. He didn't want to get dressed.

**Uniform**

In the ten years since they'd met, Luke had seen Mara in all manners of attire and managed not to stare: the fitted combat suit she'd worn that first day on Myrkr, flight suit jumpers, medical ward fatigues, elegant formal dresses, stretchy gym clothes, fitted bathing suits, and a particularly risqué dance outfit she'd worn on what had proven to be a very interesting undercover mission.

The borrowed uniform she wore now was unflattering, at best. The top was loose, the pants were bulky and she kept pulling the waistband up. So why couldn't he take his eyes off her?

**Cloak**

Finally back on Coruscant, Luke returned to his apartment and Mara did the same...until she arrived on his doorstep five hours later, bag in hand.

He awoke the next morning to find her standing in front of his closet, fingering the sleeve of his Jedi robe. He wanted a wedding right away, but she insisted that her training and formal promotion to Jedi Knight must come first. She never wanted to be accused of marrying into the Order.

Slipping into the cloak, she pulled the hood over her head and faced him with an apprehensive smile. "How do I look?"


	7. Week 7

**Week 7: **_**Cade Skywalker**_ (LEGACY comics era)

**Mouth**

The Sith Temple is vast, full of dark chambers and even darker passageways. It was built right on top of the old Jedi Temple and the tunnels in its belly were my childhood playground. You'd think I'd be able to avoid the Sith who dwell here. Sneak around. In and out. But I can't.

The Grand Hall is unavoidable and I enter to find the one who killed my father standing at the other end. His mouth is shrouded in black ink and he looks away from me quickly. I wonder if he can sense how much I loathe him?

**Ears**

I hear what they say about me in whispers behind wide columns of black duracrete - that I do not embrace their creed and should not be here. But Krayt has his own agenda and their complaints fall on distracted ears.

Me? I don't know where I should be. I feel the darkness and I like it, but I can never forget that I now live among those who destroyed my life.

For now, I play the game to survive. Just like after Ossus, when Rav found me floating in space. I conformed then. I can do the same now.

**Eyes**

Their eyes are yellow. The whole karking lot of them. They stare with smoldering gazes, inspecting me like some kind of laboratory gullipud. I withdraw from the Force, hiding my hatred. I may not be a Sith, but I can do that better than any of them.

I eat alone. I walk the corridors alone. I stand in my room and stare at the Coruscant sky. Somewhere out there are the friends I abandoned. Long gone, I'm sure. Hating me as much as I hate myself.

When I look in the mirror, my eyes are still green. My father's eyes.

**Nose **

My new "master" approaches, her nose flaring slightly and lekku twitching. She does that when she's irritated. What'd I do this time? Forget to bow to the ugly murglak statue over the West Entrance, acknowledging his grand and glorious deeds in Sith song?

She summons me to a practice chamber and the sparring begins. Good. I've been fighting my whole life. This, I can do. A red lightsaber hums in my hands and I wield it with satisfaction. I did learn _something_ under my Jedi Masters, and I'm determined to prove it.

But unlike them, she does more than talk.

**Hands**

She stands close. Too close, and I sense her intent.

Fine. Whatever. This will be the easy part of the game.

Her hands slide up my arms, over the new and still-tender black tattoos, and she threads her fingers into my hair. She wants to know if I'm ready to embrace the darkness.

I don't answer but embrace her instead, and she stops talking. Stops probing. Stops asking. She leads me to her room and I follow, unresisting.

In her bed, I turn over under the sheets, kicking them off my bare feet.

It was good.

But I've had better.


	8. Week 8

**Week 8: **_**Girl Talk**_

**Sullustan**

"I mean it, Aunt Mara, you should see this new Sullustan pilot I just tested in sims. He's got the highest score of any non-Jedi I've seen. Well, except for Wedge. But nobody compares to Wedge."

Walking beside Jaina, Mara glanced at her niece. "So, he'll be your new wingmate?"

The hitch in Jaina's stride was almost imperceptible. The younger woman was thinking, her brow furrowed in a way that made her look exactly like her uncle.

"But he's not who you _want_ as your wingmate," Mara continued, keeping her tone light and neutral.

Jaina stopped. "Is it that obvious?"

**Bothan**

Iella threw the datapad down in disgust. "So this is what we're coming to? Not even Bothans are decent spies anymore."

Mirax glanced up from her viewscreen. "Didn't get the intel?"

"Second-rate hack. I'll have to get it myself."

"Wait. Isn't today your anniversary? Shouldn't you be home getting pretty?"

"I didn't realize it was so late." Iella scowled at her chrono. "And I still have to download -"

"_I'll_ do it. You go on. I've gotta work with your husband tomorrow and I hate it when he's grouchy."

Iella smiled to cover the color in her cheeks. "Thank you!"

**Human**

Guiding her reluctant companion into the boutique, Leia reached the directory and keyed for activation. "Either you tell me what you want as a wedding gift, or I pick something myself."

"We don't need a single thing, Leia. I've told you that."

"Every woman needs something special for her wedding night...like this." Walking to a nearby clothing rack, Leia held up a soft, beaded garment.

Winter sputtered, turning scarlet. "You _must_ be joking."

"I'm not. I have one just like it."

Pursing her lips, Winter eyed the gown suspiciously. "You think Tycho will -?"

"Love it." Leia finished. "_Trust me._"

**Mon Calamari **

"What, exactly, are we shopping for, Shada?"

Perusing the open store fronts on the gallery level walkway, the dark-haired woman answered distractedly, "Just a gift for a friend."

"And what kind of gift would this friend like?" Shirlee Faughn pressed. "We've been walking around for hours."

"Don't know yet," Shada answered, wandering into a Mon Calamari showroom. "It's hard to buy for someone who has everything or access to it."

Pausing in front of an elaborate portrait, Shada stared at the intricately woven design. "That's gorgeous!"

"It is," Faughn answered behind her. "Karrde will love it."

Shada spun around, blinking.

**Wookie**

"Open the door."

"Go away!"

"Come on, Blue! Chak needs your help with the thrusters."

"You tell that stoopa Wookie he can kriff my hydrospanner!"

Kee rolled her eyes. "Look, I know you're mad at Cade, but you heard Boss Lady. We'll never get him away from that Sith shutta if this ship ain't purrin' like a reekcat."

When the door finally opened, Kee's jaw went slack at the sight of the puffy, disheveled mess staring back at her.

"Chess ko, Dee. Is _that _how you want him to see you?"

With trembling hands, Deliah tried to smooth her hair.


	9. Week 9

**Week 9: **_**Talon/Shada**_

**Family**

She had no family. Not anymore. Not since the decimation of Emberlene where she'd watched her village burn to the ground. As a young woman, the Mistryl Shadow Guards had become her sisters, her family, her life. But not anymore. Like everything else in this corrupt galaxy, they had fallen and she had fled. Seeking something better. Something with purpose.

Alone and tired, she had turned to the New Republic, but was diverted. Her vie for recruitment had not been conventional, true, but the rejection was palpable.

With wary eyes, she turned to the man to whom she'd been offered.

**Travel**

After an awkward yet brief initiation period, she traveled with his crew everywhere. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met before. The power he wielded was not flaunted, as if he needed not prove his worth to anyone but himself.

She fell easily into the roll of bodyguard, since it had been her way of life for so many years, and he yielded to her expertise. Before long, he began to request her assistance on other matters of organizational administration and she offered her opinions and services gladly. Mazzic had treated her well, but this man – Talon Karrde – was different.

**Food**

When it came to dining, he spared no expense. She'd once assumed that only the wealthy and degenerate indulged in such opulence, but he was neither.

The first time he invited her to evening meal, she declined, feigning illness. She was from a poor world and, in her experience, such an offer was usually followed by propositions of a more personal nature.

The second time, she backed away from the table, murmuring an excuse about unfinished business.

The third time, he took her hand, smiling warmly. "It's my treat, Shada. No strings attached."

Relieved, she joined him at the table.

**Blessings**

Alienated from her Sisters and everything she knew as a way of life, she never imagined that her life could be good again. Yet, here she was.

And there he was, standing at the helm. Stern and commanding yet completely devoted to his crew, they lacked for nothing.

She had her own modest quarters with ample clothing and a private 'fresher. Her responsibilities had increased and fellow crew members regarded her with new respect. She was valued and useful. And she was safe.

And when he glanced over his shoulder and smiled back at her, something tingled in her gut.

**Thanks**

Her first mistake was embarrassing – a transaction error that could have cost Karrde thousands of credits and the loss of a lucrative and trusted client. He caught it in time, fortunately, and she waited for her reprimand. It never came.

Instead, he pulled her aside that night, when they were alone, and showed her the fault in her coding. She had apologized so many times that he'd stopped listening and, instead, sat beside her with his arm draped over the back of her chair.

"A common mistake," he assured her quietly, leaning close enough to touch.

"Thank you," she whispered.


	10. Week 10

**Week 10: **_**Leia/Mara**_

**Water**

Half-dragging, half-carrying Luke into the medical bay, Mara Jade deposits his unconscious body on the cot, arranging his head and legs in what would appear to be a comfortable position. This is not the first time she has brought my brother back to me after some mission gone wrong, but it is the first time she has not set an amount for payment. It's not like her to work for free and, as far as I know, she doesn't owe Luke for any unpaid debts. She wipes sweat from her brow and I offer her a bottle of water...again.

**Wine**

She stands against the back wall of the banquet parlor, taking in everyone and everything around her with a practiced glance. I grew up around Imperial operatives and I can tell that Luke's new friend is a good one. She holds a glass of wine loosely in her hand and greets the socialites who approach her with an air of dignity that reveals nothing of her intent.

A human male enters and she disregards him with a look I recognize too well. I don't know who he is or what he did, but his time has just run out.

**Ale**

I think this is the first time I've seen Mara laugh. Not grin or smirk, but really laugh. Gathered with the crew of the _Wild Karrde_, she rocks back in her seat, downing a mug of ale. The blue-haired slicer leans forward, speaking with animated gestures, and laughter erupts around the table. Mara beckons the waitress, signaling for another round of drinks.

She waves to me across the room and I wave back. I wouldn't have guessed that, beneath the steely professional exterior and wickedly dry sense of humor, was a woman who snorts when she laughs.

**Tea**

I never heard the whole story of how Mara and Mirax met, but the former assassin was immediately welcomed into the Horn household without reservation - and subsequently conjured to a Corellian tradition called a "baby shower."

On a spacious veranda, we sip an exotic tea as Mirax opens gifts for her soon-to-be-born first child and several of the other women eye Mara warily, as if still not sure what to think of her. Mirax ignores them, winking at me and and teasing our new friend mercilessly about the fact that she has no clue what a Diaper Danny does.

**Juice**

It's impossible to know when Mara will or will not be at the Jedi Academy, so I really shouldn't be surprised to see her here. She arrives and departs at random and it drives Luke crazy because she never stays for long.

If she senses me standing behind her in the library, she gives no indication as she stares straight ahead, absently fingering a cup of juice. Abruptly, she stands and walks away, leaving a lone holocron in the middle of the table. When she is gone, I step forward and activate it. A single phrase appears: _Order 66._


	11. Week 11

**Week 11: **_**The Healer II**_ (Luke/Leia/Barriss – AU)

This set is a continuation of "The Healer" (Luke/Barriss) drabbles from Week 5, but can also stand alone.

**Young**

Luke and Leia waited quietly in the small hut as the woman called Barriss settled into a chair facing them. When she had arranged her simple skirt, she regarded them expectantly. "What brings you all this way to visit an old woman?"

"Just questions," Luke answered. "You said you knew our father."

She nodded. "I did. We were padawans together."

"Can you tell us anything about him?"

"Many things." Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me why you ask and, perhaps, I can answer you better."

"That's what we want to know is _why._ Why did he turn to the dark side?"

**In-Between**

"Do you not know your history?" Barriss leaned forward, speaking with a note of chastisement in her voice. "There were evil forces at work that consumed us all, including your father."

"Palpatine," Luke replied. "Did he sense the evil in Anakin and recruit him?"

"Your father was not evil," the elder woman answered harshly, hissing between her teeth. "As a teenager, he risked his more than once life to save me and our Masters. You speak of what you do not know, boy."

"Then tell us," Leia implored. "Tell us so that we can prevent it from happening again."

**Old**

_"It?"_ Wizened blue eyes glowed brightly over faded tattoos. "_It_ is old powers: the powers of love and passion; the powers of greed and corruption. _It_ is a constant in the universe that will never disappear or diminish. _It_ is what you will fight and embrace, time and again."

Luke answered plainly. "I don't understand."

"There is nothing to 'prevent,' young man." She lowered her voice, speaking slowly. "Only the mind and soul can employ great good or great evil. That spirit must be guided, not destroyed."

"So evil should not be destroyed?"

"Are you so certain of inherent evil?"

**Foolish**

It was Leia who answered, "But inherently good people do not turn into mass murderers."

Barriss shifted slowly in her chair. "You are correct. Mass murderers are shaped and trained, honed to a menacing force with skill and patience."

"Because they are corrupt."

"Because they _care._"

Leia stared back at her, confused.

Barriss clucked her tongue. "Foolish girl. Do you believe that right and wrong are so neatly separated? That honor and horror do not share the common impetus of passion?"

"We are judged by our actions, not our motivations," Leia retorted. "How can you sit there and defend him?"

**Wise**

"How are you sitting there at _all?_" Barriss countered. "How did your brother survive the Emperor and live to train you and a new generation of Jedi?"

Leia turned to Luke, but he was staring intently at the former Jedi Healer. Silence stretched between them until Luke finally answered, "He saved me."

Barriss's mouth twitched at the corner. "How?"

"He killed the Emperor," Luke reflected. "Gave his life to kill him and save me…and Leia."

Leia started to speak again, but Barriss hushed her with a single, raised finger. "_That_ is the Anakin _I_ knew, young lady. Judge the action."


	12. Week 12

**Week 12: **_**Jedi vs. Sith**_(AU, humor)

**A/N:** This set was ridiculous. And entirely too fun to write. ;)

**Trial**

Luke and Mara Skywalker circled the strange contraption that had mysteriously appeared in the middle of the Jedi Temple. Bulbous and shiny, it sported only a small view screen and a single emitter port on its smooth exterior.

"What is it?" Luke asked, scratching his chin.

"I don't know." Mara leaned down to squint into the view screen. "It's too small to be a ship. A communication device, maybe?"

Hesitantly, she touched the emitter and was instantly thrown backwards as a loud _SHOOP!_ noise burst from the device accompanied by a blinding light.

Where the light ended, a being appeared.

**Test**

He was clad entirely in black and his face was a covered in a pattern of intricate red and black tattoos.

Luke and Mara looked at each other, then back to the stranger. "Who are _you?_"

"I am Darth Maul," the yellow-eyed newcomer hissed.

"That's not possible," Luke answered. "Darth Maul died 70 years ago."

Maul frowned. "Obviously not."

"Luke, it's a time machine!"

"And you are Jedi," Maul announced, pointing to their lightsabers as he shed his cloak. "Prepare to die."

"Die?" Luke protested. "We haven't even threatened you!"

"I'm Sith. You're Jedi. This is what we do."

**Preparation**

One hour later, the trio sat cross-legged on the floor as Luke offered a lengthy explanation of the New Jedi Order and its policies of tolerance and acceptance of views that would once have been considered Dark.

Maul rubbed his horns. "Look, mate. I don't want to turn from the Dark Side or find inner peace in the Light. I just want to bloody kill you, okay?"

"But fighting is not the answer," Luke answered earnestly. "Surely you can see that."

Maul leaned back against the time machine, mumbling, "I don't even remember the question anymore."

_SHOOP!_ The emitter flashed.

**Fail**

Springing from the light in an elaborate display of gymnastic prowess, a red and black tattooed Twi'lek appeared brandishing a long, red blade.

Maul jumped to his feet. "Well..._hello_. And who might you be?"

"I am Darth Talon. My Master's Hand." Striking a _en garde_ pose, she hesitated when Maul did not move. "Shouldn't we be fighting them now?"

"Technically, yes. But the male seems to think that killing a Sith will turn him to the Dark Side."

"Wait a minute." Mara rose indignantly. "You're a _Darth Hand?_"

Luke stood, whispering, "Did you ever wear an outfit like that?"

**Pass**

The discussion about the female's clothing somehow turned into an analysis of motive versus intent in the Empire which then evolved into a debate about the role of the Jedi in the current political environment.

"So...you're from the future. Did Jedi in your time talk this much?" Maul asked.

"No."

"Would you - um -" he swallowed. "Want to go get a cup of caf and then we could, say, take over the galaxy?"

"I would be honored," she answered, yellow eyes sparkling. "Do you think they'll notice?"

"Doubt it." He held out his arm. "I like your ink."


	13. Week 13

**Week 13: **_**Kol/Morrigan/Cade**_ (LEGACY comics era)

**Festive**

The Jedi Temple was bigger than Morrigan expected. She'd seen holos on the news, of course, but they failed to accurately portray the majestic stone fortress rising above the trees of Ossus.

Shifting Cade's weight on her hip, she followed Kol through the Grand Archway and into a hall decorated with colorful foliage and flowers. Jedi were everywhere. The adults mingled in small groups while the younglings proudly displayed the new robes they would wear for the promotion ceremonies.

It was a day of consecration and, as such, Kol had brought his infant son to be presented to the Council.

**Wish**

Prior to the ceremony, Kol introduced her to the Council and his friends. They were cordial and polite, but reserved, eyeing her with a wariness not completely concealed by their stoic expressions. Kol did not volunteer the nature of their relationship, nor did the Council members ask. She was simply the child's mother.

Kol invited her to stand beside him as he presented their son for naming, but she shook her head and averted her eyes. She was no part of this world.

The one called K'Kruhk took the child and lifted him carefully. "Force shine upon you, Cade Skywalker."

**Gift**

"This is for you." In a corner alcove, Kol pressed a small case into her hand. She immediately felt guilty - she had not thought to buy him a gift for this occasion. Opening the case, she withdrew a thin, black strap adorned with a single, decorative disc. "Turn it on."

It was a holo of the three of them, taken just last week on Mirial. "Thank you," she murmured. She didn't know what else to say.

Balancing the sleeping baby on his shoulder, Kol fastened the strap around her neck. "In case you ever miss me," he said, smiling.

**Naughty**

"They hate me," Morrigan announced, sitting heavily on the edge of Kol's bed.

"Don't be ridiculous," he answered as he wrangled their squirming son into a clean diaper. "Jedi don't hate."

"They don't trust me."

"They don't know you." Taking a bottle from the warmer, Kol sank into a chair and propped Cade on his arm as the boy eyed his dinner hungrily. "It'll be all right."

She wasn't so sure, but today was not the day to have that discussion. Instead, she turned over on her side. "Remind me that I owe you a present, after the baby's asleep."

**Nice**

She'd never seen a more devoted father. In the week they spent on Ossus, Kol paraded Cade around, beaming with pride and speculation of what was surely evidence of his son's burgeoning Force abilities.

They took long walks together and sat beside lakes, watching the birds until Cade's enthusiastic squeals scared them away.

She rested in Kol's arms while the baby napped and the adoration in his eyes made her want to stay by his side.

She could do this. How had she ever thought to leave him? Either of them?

Surely, life as a family had its merits.

Surely.


	14. Week 14

**Week 14: **_**Dark Mara**_

(This is a characterization/setting that I write on a higher-rated site. Lady Jade deigned to cooperate for this set of drabbles. )

_Lines in italics from the __Sith Code_

**Love**

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

"Lady Jade."

I turn away from the viewport, toward the voice. My chief security officer enters and deposits a prisoner at my feet - the man who would have been my consort.

"I'm sorry," he pleads, not even attempting to rise. "Forgive me, my Lady. My love, it was a mistake."

"Yes, it was," I answer coolly.

He kisses my boot. "It will not happen again."

"No." I push his face away as blood leaks from his mouth. "It won't.

The dead body is dragged away and I turn back to the viewport.

**Credits**

_Through passion, I gain strength._

Everyone has a price - something for which they will sell their soul, whether they acknowledge it or not. Freedom. Credits. Possessions. All are easy enough to obtain, if one is willing to barter.

There are men and women who consider themselves above desiring such gains – they will lie down and perish before they compromise their personal code of ethics.

They can be bought, too, but not through tangible assets.

Love, I have heard, is a useful ideal.

But only with the siren call of passion is a man's true nature revealed.

**Power**

_Through strength, I gain power._

My ship is my world to command. The Emperor himself has no place here and my servants would die before they would betray me to him. But I will not allow that.

I walk the halls with officers at my side or alone, but it is my choice. Always, my choice.

Yet, there is emptiness in this vacuum of power. I grow restless in my cravings and those who meet my needs do not fill the void.

I know what I seek – what I must have. The Force stirs and I know it is time.

**Pleasure**

_Through power, I gain victory. _

It is dark here, in this sanctuary. Still, now that the night's ardor has diminished, and I move slowly and deliberately, extinguishing the candles. On silken sheets, my handmaiden mumbles in her sleep.

He watches. My blue-eyed captive taunts me with his defiance and I stop, meeting his gaze. He is hungry. His eyes burn but, time and again, he refuses what I offer.

I could impose my will on him, but I won't. Suppression is not victory.

The Force thrums between us and he shivers, whether from pleasure or pain, I cannot tell.

**Pain**

_Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. _

He comes to me, my Knight. On bended knee, he kisses my boot. My Luke.

His eyes are no longer tormented. They shine, clearly, without lingering pain of unrequited desire. I stroke his hair. It is soft between my fingers and he rests his head against my thigh, murmuring, "My Lady."

My future Empire could be his. I would deny him nothing. Yet he clings to me alone, shunning wealth and power. I do not begrudge him his morals.

He is mine, now.

Everyone has a price.


	15. Week 15

**Week 15: **_**Karrde/Shada**_

**Melody**

Talon Karrde did not get nervous. Curious, apprehensive, worried - maybe even afraid - but not nervous.

Unfortunately, there was no other word to describe the strange twisting in his gut and the fact that his hands trembled when they fastened the front of his suit coat. Flicking a speck of lint from the pressed fabric, he inspected his appearance in the mirror, mentally chastising himself for fretting like a school boy. It was only dinner.

All right, dinner and maybe dancing, but nothing formal.

Although a gentle melody played in the background, a shot of brandy sounded more soothing.

**Instrument**

While not in the most affluent part of Coruscant, his temporary apartment was furnished and the contract included a two-person speeder. The rental hummed like a finely-tuned instrument as he traversed the crowded skylanes to a small, stylish restaurant.

Mara had recommended the establishment and, though he trusted her judgment implicitly, he still chose to arrive early so as to make an assessment of the surroundings. One could never be too careful.

Apparently, his date had the same idea. He had no sooner stepped up to the bar when a familiar pair of eyes met his from across the room.

**Rhythm**

The last time he'd seen Shada D'ukal had been in a back-water alley of some third rate planet. Soaked with rain and knee-deep in mud, he had pulled her to safety and held her mascara-streaked face close to shield her from spraying shrapnel. She had clung to him tightly and his heart pounded, but not from the violent rhythm of the guns.

A swell of music from the band contrasted starkly with his memory and she stood to greet him, her smile jerking him back to reality. Dressed in a shimmering, fitted gown, she was the picture of grace and elegance.

**Sound**

They were seated near the stage and, rather than sit with his back to the band, he pulled his chair around to her side of the table. If you'd asked him later what they talked about, he couldn't remember, precisely. He smiled and laughed and the quiet sound of her voice drowned out every other noise in the room.

She leaned in close, commenting on the last song, and her hair brushed his hand. Dark and smooth, it hung almost to her waist and he knew it would only take one more touch for his hands to start shaking again.

**Symphony**

When he'd held her in the mud and rain, she'd been hard - hard and tense and determined to fight or do whatever was needed to survive.

Tonight on the dance floor, she was soft, molding against him when he wrapped his arm around her waist. Her hair smelled of flowers. Not the sweet kind that burned your nose in the floral shops, but a fainter, exotic scent.

The music was a slow, simple ballad played on a lone harp. But when she lifted her head to lace her fingers behind his neck, it could have been a symphony.


	16. Week 16

**Week 16: **_**Mara Jade (pre-TTT)**_

**Lightsaber**

The problem with lightsabers was the light. And the noise. In fact, they were quite possibly the most impractical weapon ever issued to an Emperor's Hand, Mara thought as she crept along an outside wall of the fortress. Unfortunately, it was also the only tool she was carrying that would allow her to cut into her target's office without an even noisier explosion.

An intel droid from the inside gave her the green light that the room was empty. Igniting the magenta blade, she positioned the tip along a crevice and held her breath that the guards below would not look up.

**Blaster**

"What you doin', girly?"

Mara turned around. There was a time when the Force would have alerted her to the presence of the tall, greasy man leering down at her. But, as was happening more and more since the Emperor's death, the Force was silent now. Dammit.

He approached and she backed up against the ship's hull. "Calm it there, big guy," she answered in a local accent. "I wasn't doin' nuthin' to yer ship."

"I don' believe you, girly." His hand went to the weapon on his belt.

He never saw the blaster that dropped from her left sleeve.

**Vibroblade**

Mara sat straight up in bed, reaching for her weapons before she was even awake. Screams. People were screaming outside her tiny rented room.

Running down the hall, she stopped at the entry to the main lobby of the inn and peered around the corner.

Bounty hunter. One of Isard's, here for her.

The innkeeper already lay dead and several bystanders had been wounded in the crossfire.

"Lazy sleemo," she sneered.

When she stepped full into his view, he grinned like a man already counting his credits. But the vibroblade that went spinning from her hand erased his grin. Permanently.

**Bowcaster**

The Wookies were dead. All of them. Males, females, children – all slaughtered in the night without warning.

Mara knelt in the bushes, watching.

Stormtroopers. A small band of deserters, by the look of it. Drunk on their own power, they plundered what little wealth they could find, not even wearing their helmets.

Crawling to the nearest fallen Wookie, she grabbed his bowcaster and hid, assuming a sniper's position. Had she ever imagined the day would come when she would take up arms against Imperial forces?

If they no longer served the noble cause of the Empire…

She fired without remorse.

**Thermal Detonator**

"There's no way out!" Ghent whispered, panicked.

"Yes, there is," Mara answered through gritted teeth. Kicking open the weapons' hold, she pulled out a thermal detonator.

"Wait!" Karrde grabbed her wrist. "Do you know how to use that thing?"

She jerked her arm away. "Of course I do."

"Without getting us killed, I mean," Karrde hissed in her ear. "And don't look at me like that. I never know what you're capable of, Jade."

"Back off." She lifted her arm to aim and closed her eyes.

"What the hell are you _doing?_"

"Trust me." The Force was with her today.


	17. Week 17

**Week 17: **_**Skywalker boys**_

**Black**

"Can we keep it, Mom? Can we?"

Shmi turned around just as her young son came running into their hovel carrying a small animal. It was black and what little fur it had left was matted with sand and filth.

"Ani, no," she answered gently. "We cannot possibly afford a pet."

"But, Mom!" He looked up, his blue eyes pleading. "It's just a baby and it's starving."

Shmi knelt down, brushing her fingers through his blond hair.

"I'll keep it in my room, Mom, and give it some of my food. _Please_!"

He was generous to a fault, her boy.

**Blond**

"Aunt Beru? Why can't I go to school with all the other kids?"

Beru Lars did not answer, but continued to stir a steaming pot on the food prep unit. From his earliest childhood, she had taught Luke his lessons there at the table in the alcove. Until recently, he'd seemed content, but now he was getting older and wanted to be with children his own age.

What would she say? He could never know the truth – that she kept him under her roof out of sheer terror that he might go off to school and disappear, like his parents.

**Red**

Mara had seen terrible things in her life. Death and depravity, poverty and perversion, but she'd been trained to keep her wits about her and remain calm. She did not overreact and she certainly did not panic.

Until today.

Whatever she had once been, she was a mother now and nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared her for the sight of blood on her son. He'd struck his head and was barely conscious when she picked him up to carry him to the medical ward.

When a drop of red trickled from his nose, she went weak in the knees.

**Brown**

"What's wrong with it?"

Ben Skywalker joined his grandson, who was crouching on the forest floor inspecting a flowering plant. It should have been purple but it was brown-speckled and the young boy poked it experimentally.

"I don't know, Kol. It appears to be sick."

Kol looked up, distress wrinkling his small face. "Can it be healed?"

Ruffling the boy's red hair, he smiled, standing slowly. "When we get back to the Academy, we can look it up. Perhaps there is a cure."

Kol touched the petals one last time before slipping his hand into Ben's. "I'd like that, Papa."

**Bald**

"Cade Skywalker, get in this room!"

"I don't _want _to!"

"I didn't ask you what you _wanted_."

Kol stood aside as his son stomped through the door and threw himself petulantly into the chair. "I don't need a haircut," the boy grumbled.

Cade glared up at him with green eyes that were barely visible behind the curtain of blond hair shrouding his forehead.

When the stylist approached, Cade looked out the window to where his best friend was playing outside. "_Shado_ doesn't have to get haircuts."

Kol rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Shado's a Twi'lek, Cade. He doesn't _have _any _hair_."


	18. Week 18

**Week 18: **_**Nyna Calixte**_ (LEGACY comics era)

**Coruscant**

It was a hard galaxy and you either gave or you took. Nyna Calixte chose to take. She took from her family, abandoning her husband and daughter to pursue a life of greater potential. She took from lesser officers, garnering their titles and powers until she achieved the prestiged post of head of Imperial Intelligence. She took from her lover, manipulating him with the wiles of womanhood. And she took from herself, hiding behind black hair dye and falsely colored eyes. Facades had become her true face. She trusted no one. Not anymore. The comm clicked. It was time to move.

**Corellia **

She'd learned a long time ago that people didn't ask questions if you were good enough at your job. You didn't have to prove your identity, only your worth. As such, no one questioned the CorSec officer with flaming red hair and a penchant for black label ale. Having intercepted a breech in intelligence that would have compromised the governor, she was rewarded with a substantial sum. It would go in her pocket, saved for another day. Calixte had no love for the governor, but the Moff Council needed him and his crooked politics in place. For now, at least.

**Kashyyyk **

Kashyyyk was a dangerous place for bounty hunters and assassins. Wookies preferred to mete out their own justice and had little use for off-worlders who invaded their forests with agressive agendas. But some systems could not be avoided. Calixte had a target to bring in or bring down and he'd foolishly sought refuge among the furballs. Idiot. She'd tracked him this far and the trail was hot. Dressed in a furry jumpsuit, she'd been spotted at a distance by a few of the natives, but ignored in the darkness. Swinging from branch to branch, she closed in on her prey.

**Korriban **

Calixte did not scare easily, but even she would admit that her first trip to Korriban had been terrifying. She'd seen the rage of the Sith first hand and knew that _not_ fearing them would be as disastrous as underestimating their powers. She prepared for weeks - concealing weapons in a flowing, black cloak and practicing the elusive art of shielding her thoughts. When she landed on planet, she descended the ramp of her ship in full red and black make-up. In the end, a Sith was not so hard to kill. Not if you had a big enough blaster.

**Tatooine **

Twenty years. That was how long it had been since she'd been on Tatooine, but nothing had changed. The suns still blazed hot, the sand still whipped fast. The corner tapcaf was still there. Calixte entered and took a seat in the corner where she'd sat twenty years ago. But no one asked to buy her a drink this time, and the patrons who acknowledged her looked away quickly. She ran her red-tipped fingernails over the table. The wood had been buffed, but she'd swear it was the same table where she'd met Kol. Back when she had been Morrigan.


	19. Week 19

**Week 19: **_**Skywalker girls**_

**Heat**

It was hot. Shmi Skywalker wasn't exactly sure where she was, but her new home was a jungle, all steaming and sticky. Her mother had been assigned to pick round fruits from the trees and Shmi, as the oldest girl, was put in charge of watching the younger children. It wasn't a chore, though. They tossed make-shift balls and twisted flowers into each other's hair. They played Seek and Find in the bushes and, if anyone had asked her what she thought of being a slave, she wouldn't have known what to say. Her mother had never used that word.

**Cold**

Multi-colored lights glittered through shimmering walls of ice, alternating in brightness and intensity throughout an intricate maze. Jobal Naberrie knelt and wrestled with her daughter's coat and gloves as the young girl twisted in excitement. "Hold _still_, Padme!" she scolded. "You cannot play until you are dressed for the cold."

Ignoring the girls sliding down a wide ramp, Padme pointed to a group playing light tag. "Can I play with them?"

"With the boys?" Jobal asked. "But they have blasters and might be rough."

Padme's eyes flashed indignantly, full of mischief. "I am _not_ scared of boys. _Or_ their blasters."

**Rain**

"You promised we could play outside when you got home from work, Momma. You _promised!_"

Leia looked down at her pleading daughter. "Jaina, it's pouring down rain."

"I don't _care._ Water never hurt anyone. At least, that's what you said when we had to take swimming lessons."

Leia pursed her lips and looked out the window, then back to Jaina's hopeful face.

Half an hour later, dressed in coats and boots, the former Princess of Alderaan ran hand in hand with her daughter through the rain. Laughing and stomping in every puddle, they were soon covered in mud and smiles.

**Sunshine**

The morning sun was bright, streaming into her bedroom window. Mara hurriedly pulled on her socks and shoes and ran downstairs to the kitchen, only to stop abruptly in the doorway at the sound of her parents arguing in low voices.

"We have to get her _away_ from here."

"How will we leave? The public transports are shut down and we don't have enough money for a private ship."

"We'll sell whatever we can and withdraw our savings. We _have_ to find a way."

The stairway creaked and her mother spun around, smiling tightly and too big. "Happy birthday, sweetheart!"

**Clouds**

They were supposed to have been studying for exams in the dormitory. Dressed impeccably in their matching grey Imperial uniforms with their matching strict hairstyles, the small group of girls leaned toward each other, whispering over the table.

"I think Dant is cute. I bet he'll make Moff."

"No, I like Taget. Now _that's_ officer material."

"What about you, Morrigan?" Five sets of eyes turned to the girl who was seated by the window, staring up at the overcast sky. "Who do you like?"

Morrigan shrugged, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Boring officers aren't my type."


	20. Week 20

**Week 20: **_**Legacies**_

_All quotes are from the LEGACY comics, written by John Ostrander. _

**Destiny **

"Every generation has its challenges to face, its own battles to win." - Luke Skywalker

I once thought that every battle was mine to wage and war, no matter what the cost. My wife helped me to see that no one man is responsible for the galaxy and my son taught me that the ends do not, in fact, justify the means.

I have learned to allow others their mistakes and to watch over the younger generations, acknowledging that their struggles are not mine. I cannot fight for them. But I can hold high the torch to light their way.

**Legacy **

"I have a legacy, too. And I'm just as trapped by mine as you are by yours. The Sith are evil. It is the Empire's - and my father's - shame that we ever allied with them. We must make it right." - Princess Marasiah Fel

The strength that runs through our veins was forged generations ago by those who fought for freedom. We honor them by refusing to bow, refusing to kneel, refusing to embrace the darkness that threatens to choke everything in its path. Betrayed but not defeated, the light lives as long as we are still fighting.

**Hope **

"Whatever Cade has done, I forgive him. He is finding his way, however reluctantly. He is becoming a Skywalker in truth as well as in name." - Hosk Trey'lis

The Jedi once feared that the Skywalker's light was gone from the galaxy, yet it has been found. Only a glimmer as yet, it glows in the heart of the man who condemned and saved me. Fire burns in his eyes, but our hope lives and I know now that it will not be extinguished. I shrink not from the Sith's red blade but I go to the Force in peace.

**Future **

"If I die here, then I die as who I am - controlled by nobody." - Cade Skywalker

Alone in that damned Embrace of Pain, I learned that there are worse things than death and I no longer fear it. The Sith or the Imps can take my body and my life, but they cannot take my soul. That's mine. Whatever the future holds, I make my own way as my own man. I choose death over submission, family over revenge and friendship over anger. I'll be no one's pawn or prize. My father's sacrifice will not be in vain.

**Fate **

"We take what is given." - Kol Skywalker

It is strange, to look death in the eye and realize that it can be accepted or denied. Although, truly, there is no choice. Destiny has presented itself and it is mine to claim. My entire life has been honed to embrace this shatterpoint and I will not go quietly, but fighting to preserve lives - to save my son. Perhaps, I shall be remembered for, in the end, what we leave behind is the only legacy left to us. It is ours to make life important. To make our existence matter.


End file.
